Pineapple Chicken and Rice

My very firm and possibly controversial belief — besides that butter is a civil rights issue — is that pineapple chicken and rice is the cozy, slightly tropical hug your weeknight deserves. Also: if you think pineapple on things is a crime, we can sit this one out, but you’re missing out. (Also, I once set a timer and ignored it. Disaster. Long story.)

How I ruined Thanksgiving but gained culinary stubbornness

Once upon a decade-ago Thanksgiving I decided to brine a turkey and then, in a fit of confidence, forgot to set the oven to the right temperature. The result: a beautifully golden bird that was a moist lie on the inside. I inhaled smoke, my neighbor’s dog judged me, and my cousin filmed the whole thing like it was a documentary. That is to say: I have made many mistakes that inexplicably taught me about trust, timing, and the sacredness of a good pan.

That memory is why this Pineapple Chicken and Rice feels like redemption—simple, forgiving, and loud enough to drown out the sound of my culinary past failures (I’m looking at you, lemon bars of 2021). Also: when my sister said “just use canned pineapple” I almost cried with gratitude.

Okay, let’s actually cook before I spiral into nostalgia

ANYWAY, before I emotionally relive every sauce I’ve ever ruined, here’s the thing: this dish is one-pan-adjacent, forgiving, and fast. It’s the kind of dinner you bring to a neighborhood potluck to prove you are both domestic and slightly dangerous (in a charismatic, not-flammable way). If you want something a little more pioneer-era comfort, try my take on a chicken and gravy recipe while this simmers to glory.

Grocery haul: what you need (and what you don’t)

• 1 lb chicken breast, cut into bite-sized pieces
• 1 can or 1.5 cups pineapple chunks (with juice)
• 3 tbsp soy sauce (low sodium if you’re sensitive)
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 tbsp fresh ginger, minced (or 1 tsp powdered in a pinch)
• 2 cups rice (long-grain or jasmine)
• Salt, to taste
• Black pepper, to taste
• 2 tbsp vegetable oil (or neutral oil of choice)

Mini-rants and shopping notes: Trader Joe’s has wonderful jasmine rice steals and their canned pineapple is an underrated hero. Aldi will also save you money and dignity. You don’t need a fancy bottle of soy — but if you’ve got the artisanal stuff, I won’t stop you from feeling superior.

Measurement cheat sheet (Cooking Unit Converter)

Quick conversions when your brain is tired and your spoon is sticky.

How this actually happens (not a sterile how-to, more like kitchen theater)

I will now ramble because that’s how I process heat and panic. Heat the pan until you hear it breathe; oil shimmers like a tiny pool; garlic whispers and ginger pops. The chicken should sizzle and then stop being suspiciously pink. Pineapple goes in like a surprise guest and the soy sauce joins like it owns the party. Rice is a separate but necessary subplot — don’t let it sulk.

Here’s what I learned the hard way (and you will too if you ignore me): don’t overcrowd the pan, and don’t substitute too much sugar unless you enjoy syrupy chaos. Also, taste as you go. Your palate is the only GPS you truly need.

1. In a pan, heat vegetable oil over medium heat.
2. Add minced garlic and ginger, sautéing until fragrant.
3. Add chicken breast pieces, cooking until browned and cooked through.
4. Stir in pineapple chunks and soy sauce, mixing well.
5. In a separate pot, cook rice according to the package instructions.
6. Once rice is cooked, fluff with a fork and serve topped with the pineapple chicken mixture.

If you want to pivot to a more casserole feel on a sad Sunday, think about the cozy vibe of my hearty chicken and stuffing casserole and imagine that energy folded into this dish.

Why this matters: cooking as memory and messy love

Cooking is how I stitch my past to my present. My grandmother’s laugh lived in the sound of a pot lid clanging; my mom’s comfort was a certain soy-and-sugar balance. Making this pineapple chicken is not just about feeding my body — it’s about proving to myself that flubbed Thanksgiving turkeys do not define me. Food is identity, nostalgia, and the weird little rituals that anchor chaotic humans.

A tiny, true kitchen humiliation

One time I turned my phone’s flashlight on to read a recipe because my power was out and then burnt the garlic anyway. Dramatic? Yes. Embarrassing? Also yes. Will I ever live it down at holiday dinner? Absolutely.

Chaos-friendly FAQ you didn’t ask for

Okay, I’ll stop narrating my culinary therapy session. Make this dish on a Wednesday when you need comfort and a tiny tropical escape; call your neighbor, apologize for the smoke, and bring leftovers for breakfast like a responsible adult who also hoards pineapple. Trust me. (Also slice the chicken evenly — I’m not mad, just disappointed.)

Calorie calculator: eyeball your portions

A tiny tool to help you estimate energy needs based on portion size and appetite.